


Shot Of Whiskey

by MemoryPalaceofWillGraham (JaxCat)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Android biology, Androids, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor will tell you about it at length, Fluff, Hank also, M/M, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-03 23:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaxCat/pseuds/MemoryPalaceofWillGraham
Summary: “Now the damn android wants me to get him drunk. Sure that won’t invalidate your CyberLife warranty?”





	Shot Of Whiskey

Hank snapped his terminal off with a sigh. Paperwork finished. Bad guys processed. And all of it accomplished before midnight, mainly thanks to Connor. Hank snuck a look at the android across from him. Connor’s LED cycled yellow, his hands still moving over his own terminal.

 

Hank cleared his throat.

 

Connor's hands stilled as he met Hank's eyes. His LED brightened and cleared to blue. The station was quiet; they were the last two around and Hank imagined he could hear Connor’s processors whirring up as he pulled himself out the reports he had buried himself in.

 

“Are you ready to leave, Lieutenant? You will need an early start tomorrow; there is a squad meeting scheduled for 8:00 am.”

 

Hank grimaced. The only positive aspect of an early meeting was the good chance that Connor would show up at his door to hustle him along with a cheerful smile, no matter how much Hank cursed and grumbled. Hank studiously ignored the fact that he had gone from dreading to anticipating this possibility.

 

“Lieutenant?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Caught up in my own thoughts.”

 

“About what, may I ask? You look...pleased.”

 

_Pull it together, Anderson. If you aren't careful, Connor will figure out you don’t hate him barging in and will be on your doorstep every morning._

 

“Pleased, huh? Well, I am fucking pleased,” Hank leaned back in his chair, stretching. “We took down the heart of a red ice ring today and nobody was roughed up during the arrests, which means less paperwork. Both wins, in my book.” God, it felt good to be doing this work again. Not that he complained (as much) now about being the go-to for android-related crimes. But he couldn't lie; he missed the adrenaline rush of taking out a gang of drug-dealing scumbags.

 

“The only thing that could make this night better is a drink to celebrate.” Hank shot a crooked smile at Connor, who gazed calmly back. “But...ah...I mean,” he suddenly stumbled over his words, realizing that his next instinct, to haul his partner down to the nearest bar and buy the first round, wouldn’t exactly fly in this situation. After all, the bars in this area didn’t allow androids. And even if they did…

 

“Androids can’t,” Hank waved one hand around vaguely, casting his eyes up at the ceiling, “eat or drink or anything, right? I mean, I don’t know how you would-” and with that Hank shut up before he started thinking about the non-existent bathroom habits of androids. He looked back at Connor, who had leaned forward and clasped his hands on his desk.

 

“Actually, Lieutenant, you are not quite correct,” Connor stated, his smooth voice now more chipper. “The earliest android models, and some of the current base models, do not have any way to process food or drink or other substances taken internally. Other models do have the capacity to hold varying amounts of organic matter in an internal storage compartment, where a small amount of thirium 310 and other chemicals that the android ingests beforehand act as a bonding agent. This is often preferred in androids that may be employed in...more social...settings.” Connor paused but then continued on before Hank could let his mind settle on the implications of that statement. “The android can then simply dispose of the matter at a later time by accessing the abdominal panel and retrieving the storage compartment.”

 

His brows furrowed, Hank chewed on this information for a moment. “So, uh, is that how you would handle it? With chemicals and an internal doggy bag you pull out of your stomach later?”

 

Connor laughed. “Of course not. I am, as you know, the most advanced prototype constructed by CyberLife.” As always when Connor spoke of himself in this way, it was easy to hear the pride in his voice. Although he would never admit it, Hank had come to enjoy Connor’s preening tone.

 

“While it isn’t a fully efficient process, I have the ability to convert organic matter into excess thirium. In essence, I can add to my store of blue blood by consuming other substances. This makes me unique compared to other models, who can only replenish their blue blood by ingesting it directly. When the RK800 model was developed, this feature was installed so that I could stem a potential critical system shutdown if I was damaged in the line of duty and did not have the means to access thirium.”

 

His lecture finished, Connor stood up and walked away. Hank watched, bemused, as he bent over Reed’s workstation. A drawer squeaked. Turning around, Connor held up a whiskey bottle. Hank snorted. “And that asshole gives me a hard time about my drinking.”

 

Returning to Hank's desk, Connor set the bottle down gently. He then pulled his own chair over and sat, knees close to Hank, his hands folded primly.

 

“In answer to your question: I can have a drink with you. I would enjoy doing so. I believe that is a customary way to acknowledge the end of a case? Lieutenant, it would help me out if you could show me how it is done.”

 

“Now the damn android wants me to get him drunk. Sure that won’t invalidate your CyberLife warranty?”

 

Connor bestowed another patient smile upon Hank. Hank looked away and set to opening the bottle and pouring a shot into an empty coffee cup. He suspected that Connor was fully aware that his bluster at the moment was all bark and no bite.

 

“Don’t know what I’m supposed to show you...not like there is anything to it. You just, you know, you pour and then,” Hank raised the mug in an aborted “cheers” to Connor before shooting back the liquor. He let out a satisfied sound at the burn. Nice and warm. Warm, just like Connor’s big, brown eyes-

 

Abruptly, Hank poured a second shot for himself and drank it down. Finally pouring for Connor, he ruthlessly squashed that last train of thought. Connor was a machine. They were partners. Just partners having a drink. He was not going to start mooning over Connor’s goofy ( _lovely_ , his brain whispered) face.

 

_Don’t make this weird, Hank._

 

The android grasped the mug, raised it to Hank, and shot the whiskey back in one fluid motion. His LED flashed red for less than a second then spun yellow as he swallowed. Connor’s face was blank as his LED calmed back down to blue. His tongue delicately peeked out as he licked his lips slowly. Hank suddenly felt even warmer than before, his mind stuttering over the image of Connor’s lips and tongue.

 

Why the hell were his lips so perfect and why the fuck was he noticing this now?

 

_Okay. I’ve made it weird. Great._

 

Connor was talking.

 

“I always appreciate sharing new experiences with you, Lieutenant. I believe we both can continue to learn from each other, in a mutually beneficial manner.”

 

Hank managed an affirmative noise. Connor stood up, gathering his coat and straightening his tie. The smile was back on his face.

 

“Now, may I drive you home?”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed! Kudos and comments make my day. <3
> 
> I'm a bit nervous and would love to hear your thoughts. This is the first fic I have posted in a long time and the first time writing for a fandom that wasn't Hannibal. I hope to continue playing in this universe; I've fallen quite in love.
> 
> Please feel free to say "hi" or chat with me on twitter (@jaxofbo).


End file.
